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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24587878">A Step Forward and Two Hundred Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/merpprem/pseuds/merpprem'>merpprem</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Harry Potter's Attempts at Botching Tom Riddle's Love Confessions [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU - Harry's Era, Blaise Zabini Gives Terrible Advice, Blaise Zabini is a Good Friend, Denial of Feelings, Draco Malfoy Just Sasses Him, Emotionally constipated characters, Fluff, Harry Potter &amp; Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Oblivious Harry Potter, Protective Tom Riddle, Smart Harry Potter, Tom Riddle is a Closet Sweetheart, irregular eating habits, loss of appetite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 06:07:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,165</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24587878</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/merpprem/pseuds/merpprem</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle had planned to take Blaise Zabini's advice to heart. He really had it all planned out, honest. Even if he half-expected Harry to sabotage his plans at getting closer again, he hadn't expected the anomaly to come in the form of Harry's sudden lack of interest in food. </p><p>Merlin, help him.</p><p>Chinese Translation by Otteon available <a href="https://jean285210.lofter.com/post/312a0382_1c9ba0785">here.</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Harry Potter's Attempts at Botching Tom Riddle's Love Confessions [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745488</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>677</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Step Forward and Two Hundred Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello again! How are you all doing? Thank you for all your warm comments, I'll be sure to reply to them all soon. I'm so happy that this series has been enjoyed by many, and I do hope you all are doing okay! Hope you all enjoy the fourth part of the series!</p><p>Have you all noticed that Harry Potter is tagged as both oblivious AND smart? Slay, Potter :P</p><p>*please feel free to skip the bracketed part and continue on with the story if you like*</p><p>[I think some of you may know of the bill that is very, very close to being passed in my country. If you have the time, will you please read about it, the Anti-Terror Bill? I won't say much about it because one, I'm pretty darn scared, and two I don't want to offend anyone and this is a Fanfiction site, my goodness, hardly the best place for something like this, but all my social media accounts are private, and I don't have that many close friends in real life. I was just hoping that maybe here, I could at least do something, no matter how small. But I do hope that everyone in Hong Kong is safe, thank you for all your warnings, and to the people reading maybe in the United States, I hope you are safe too. To all the people who have suffered from this pandemic, I hope you all are safe as well.</p><p>I won't say much on it, but I really wish for the best, and I hope that many more grow aware of the things that are happening in a world outside the house I can't step a single foot out of. </p><p>Mga kababayan, magingat po kayo palagi. &lt;3</p><p>FOR MORE INFORMATION AND DETAILS ON HOW TO HELP:<br/>Please click here for info about <a href="https://parasapinas.carrd.co/">my country.</a><br/>Please click here for info about <a href="https://standwithhongkong.carrd.co/">HK.</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What’s wrong, Riddle?” </p><p>Tom sighed irritably from where he was dutifully working on (staring blankly at an equally blank sheet of parchment) his Potions essay. The hand that had been circling the rim of his closed inkpot stilled. “Nothing is <em> wrong, </em> Zabini.” He twisted his lips, eyes flickering to eye the Slytherin Chaser. “In fact, I think there may be something wrong with <em> you. </em>Whatever gave you the idea that something is wrong? Nothing is wrong, except the fact that you think that something is wrong.”</p><p>Zabini’s eyebrows shot up, almost meeting his immaculately trimmed hairline.</p><p>Ah. Tom may have overreacted. Very slightly. Slightly. But he would not admit that, or show any signs of acknowledging his rather quick but embarrassingly incoherent reply. </p><p>And if Zabini knew what was good for him, he wouldn’t comment on it either.</p><p>Zabini, to his credit, didn’t react further than a customary reply. “From your open Potions textbook and that piece of parchment that you had been sta-ah, <em> working on </em> for the past thirty minutes,” Zabini’s lips stretched into a small, provoking smirk that would have sent any irrational Gryffindor into a wild, fiery rage. “I can see that you’re trying to accomplish the recently assigned Potions essay.”</p><p>“And you are quite right. I am trying to finish this essay on the properties of Moonstone.” </p><p>“Riddle,” he began slowly. “Golden Prefect, Heir of Slytherin, local Prince Charming, my dear friend,” Zabini tilted his head, feigning confusion. “I do believe you are writing the very same Potions essay that we submitted to Professor Snape this afternoon.” In stark contrast to his rather disgustingly innocent expression, Zabini’s voice was drier than the Sahara Desert. He flopped down on the armchair closest to the quietly burning fireplace. “I think it’s pretty safe to assume that <em> something is wrong, </em>” he added mockingly, attempting to copy Tom’s haughty tone. </p><p>He was inimitable. How dare he try to replicate something of Tom’s? And how dare the impudent wizard try to point out something that was as indisputable and as obvious as Tom writing an essay he had already submitted? Tom’s hand itched to blast something into pieces, preferably the bronze-skinned boy’s trunk full of his precious belongings.</p><p>
  <em> … did Zabini just utter something about having submitted that already? </em>
</p><p>Tom, who had been previously lagging behind for Merlin knows how long, suddenly jumped from his unusually (very, <em> very </em>unusually) “slower than Harry Potter processing dirty jokes and none too subtle innuendos” state, into about half of his usual prodigious and intelligent self. (Which was already significantly smarter than most, actually.)</p><p>Hold on a <em> godforsaken </em> minute. </p><p>Tom straightened up and whipped out his wand, a curse on the tip of his tongue and ready to aim and fire at the cheeky cretin, but Zabini’s amused stare didn’t falter in the least. Zabini raised his hands slowly to jokingly imply a surrender, mischief dancing in his eyes. </p><p>Tom’s lip twitched, but pocketed his wand and sat back down in one fluid motion. He would not be affected by such childish gibes and perceptible efforts to get under his skin. He was composed model student who would not fall for such tricks—</p><p>“Has this got something to do with Potter?”</p><p>Tom’s brain stuttered to around 0.5% of its working capacity while his body flared into action at its full capability.</p><p>Before Zabini could even so much as inhale his next breath, Tom flung a curse at him and turned his neatly cropped hair into a blinding shade of neon pink. The muscled boy yowled, hands flying to his hair as he felt Tom’s magic run through it. </p><p>“Hey, that wasn’t very nice! And that wasn’t very original either!” </p><p>“Were you perhaps expecting a vase of flowers and a homemade cherry pie to reward your insolence?” he sneered. “My small bout of absentmindedness has nothing to do with <em> Potter. </em>” </p><p>Zabini scoffed, transfiguring a glass candlestick into a small mirror and checking his hair. He impatiently muttered a bunch of canceling spells and clucked his tongue when none of them worked. “It has <em>everything </em>to do with Potter. The whole House still hasn’t forgotten what happened two weeks ago, nor what happened a couple of days after.”</p><p>“What kind of nonsense are you blathering on about?” Tom snapped, losing his already thinning patience. His addled mind refused to think about how he was not only losing his patience, he was also losing precious brain cells the longer he talked to Zabini. </p><p>“You lose your shit over Potter all the damn time. Sometimes it’s the funniest thing ever since the Weasley Twins charming Draco’s trousers into a tutu,” The tanned Slytherin let loose a whoop of triumph as he tapped his hair with his wand, successfully bringing back its dark hue. “But other times, you look like a right mess. A fortnight ago, when you offered to partner up with Potter in Charms and he went running to Weasley? You brooded by the fire for the whole night, barking at any poor junior of ours whenever they tried to approach the couch.”</p><p>“Those two incidents are entirely unrelated.”</p><p>“When Potter overslept recently and couldn’t make it to the Great Hall a couple days ago, you sat down beside him in Transfiguration and offered a chicken sandwich, the same sandwich you shoved in Nott’s mouth when he asked why Potter didn’t accept it.”</p><p>“It was rather impolite of Nott to imply that my sandwich was too unsatisfactory of a snack to eat.”</p><p>“And,” Zabini loudly talked over him. “Just last week, when you attempted to walk Potter to his next class, you sulked for about three days because Potter had smacked his head into a wall in his haste to get away, probably earning himself a second scar on his forehead.”</p><p>“I do not like repeating myself, I have already stated that these events have no connection whatsoever. And Potter was not ‘trying to get away’, he was merely in a rush to get to class with or without me.” He paused before narrowing his eyes demeaningly. “And I do not <em>sulk</em>.”</p><p>Zabini casually swished his wand to change the mirror back into a candlestick, setting it down on the ornate table. “You glared daggers into your kidney pie and threw a pitcher of pumpkin juice at Crabbe for, and I quote, ‘clattering your fork around like a Neanderthal discovering stone tools for the first time’.”</p><p>“I was not wrong.”</p><p>“That was cold, Riddle, even for you. Crabbe was just trying to enjoy the bloody kidney pie.”</p><p>“He can enjoy his kidney pie flavored with the pungent taste of pumpkin juice all the same.”</p><p>Zabini sighed. “Riddle, you don’t have to—gah, you don’t have to figure it out on your own, you know. Even <em> Malfoy </em>wants to help you out, what with you being more besotted with Potter than Draco is with himself. Look, do you want my help or not?”</p><p>“I don’t—” Tom cut himself off, assessing the look on Zabini’s face. The Pureblood was looking at him with a challenging look that curiously lacked any self-serving intent.</p><p>Tom tightened his jaw. “Fine. You have five minutes to convince me.”</p><p>Zabini snorted, leaning back in his own luxurious seat. “Ever the charmer when you feel threatened. You do realize that Potter’s the only thing that could get you riled up like this?”</p><p>“Four minutes and forty-nine seconds.”</p><p>“Cut it, Riddle, I’m trying to help you one-up ‘round a third of the female population in Hogwarts.” Zabini grinned, baring his sharp pearly whites. </p><p>“About, not around,” Tom snarked instead, targeting Zabini’s informal English after failing to find any other pressure point in the split second he had to come up with a sufficient retort. Unfortunately, the other kept going, unperturbed. </p><p>“Draco and Daphne have suspicions that you think Potter may not have… understood your intentions.” Zabini waved his hand around. “That may have been true the first few times around, but after the duel, well, the Gryffindor’s beloved Quidditch Captain has been hyper aware of your presence, a most unfitting reaction for someone who supposedly knows nothing.”</p><p>Tom spent a moment considering the dark-haired boy and his words. “How are you so sure?”</p><p>“That chirpy marshmallow is never picky with who he talks to and doesn’t seem very capable of disliking or ignoring anyone, anyone who isn’t a big wanker, anyway. You’re not exactly all rainbows and sunshine, and while you only stopped glaring at anything and everything in Second Year, I highly doubt that’s any reason for him to flee at the sight of you. He even talks to <em> Malfoy </em>while being friends with the whole Weasley clan.”</p><p>Bile rose in his throat. They thought that Harry knew all along? That was not impossible, double negative required. “Are you perhaps implying that Harry is trying to… let me down easy?” </p><p>“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Riddle, no!” cried Zabini, throwing his arms in the air exasperatedly. “I think that Potter just panicked. He may be good at making people comfortable around him, but he’s kind of a mess, y’know? He’s still a bloody Gryffindor, who never thinks things through and has a disgustingly big heart but very little brain.” Tom thought of the time where Harry and his “very little brain” jutted his DIY knife next to his throat, but didn’t interrupt. “You should probably go a little slower, y’know, perhaps try the friend thing first before going further.”</p><p>Tom’s brow furrowed. “Oh?” He had personally thought of doing that even before the whole Quidditch fiasco, but had decided against it for numerous reasons, one of them being his impatience. But he would bring that particular secret with him to his grave and even deeper, all the way down to hell. “But Potter wouldn’t want me to extend a hand of friendship when that wasn’t what I was intending for all along.”</p><p>“Well, yes,” Zabini nodded grudgingly. “He’d always been a rather direct kind of person. Have you ever tried telling him outright?”</p><p>Tom cushioning the clumsy berk’s fall, once in the pitch and once in the DADA classroom? Tom spending his precious hours procuring the most thoughtful Valentine's gift and losing sleep and energy to charm that bouquet senseless into a priceless magical artifact? Tom offering a once in a blue moon compliment on his skills and choosing to practically manhandle him in a very <em>magical</em> duel? Tom offering to walk with him around Hogwarts even if they didn’t share the next class, for heaven’s sake, <em> of course </em>Tom had tried “telling him outright”.</p><p>Tom’s glower was enough of an answer for Zabini. “Well then, that only solidifies the fact that you should try a more subtle approach. It suits you more, too.”</p><p>“I still fail to see what I could possibly achieve by making my motives any less clear.”</p><p>“He’d be a little more comfortable around you, at least, the poor sod probably has no idea on how to deal with, ah, budding feelings and all that. And to be frank, you’re not much better, either.” The Chaser laughed while dodging the book that Tom had tossed at him in indignation. Damn his athleticism. “You’re usually all naturally perfect, cool, composed. Y’know, leader aura, dreamy, clever, the best kind of boyfriend material, but with Potter in the picture you end up chucking things in fouler moods than your perpetual rain cloud of a phase in First Year.”</p><p>“Do not mention our First Year.”</p><p>“Alright, alright, I won’t bring it up again, but you see, Riddle, the chemistry between you two is more opaque than this candlestick right here.” he held up the fancy thing, as if holding it up was going to underline his point even further. Tom mentally rolled his eyes. “You’re barely in your right mind when thinking about Potter, so I’m pretty sure that it’s been eating him up too in a different way.”</p><p>Tom felt something shift in him at the mere thought that Harry was just as affected as he was about all this. He was half-tempted to pathetically inquire if Harry looked as enamored as Zabini was implying, but damn it, he had a reputation to uphold. “Therefore, I should just remain friends with him for now. At least, until he is much more used to my presence?”</p><p>Blaise sighed again. “I believe so, yes.”</p><p>“But walking him to class and offering to be class partners, is that not also what friends do?”</p><p>Zabini snorted. “Like I said, he’s hypersensitive to you as of the moment. Just act like nothing’s wrong and eventually his frazzledness will die down, and after the friend part you can start wooing him again and sweep him off his two left feet.”</p><p>Hmm. Perhaps Blaise was on to something. </p><p>Tom <em>had </em>mulled over Blaise’s idea, forming a new plan to try and win Harry’s friendship and trust, if not his intimate affections for now. He <em>had </em>reasoned that he had an incredible amount of self-control, and he <em>had </em>thought about all the friendly things that he could do and say to coax Harry into relaxing. He <em>had thought </em>that he was well equipped to handle the situation, now with Blaise’s extra information. </p><p>But when Tom absentmindedly lifted his head and found himself gazing at Potter from all across the Great Hall, something in his brain clicked. </p><p>He recalled how Harry had stared at the offered chicken sandwich a few days back before averting his eyes and uncomfortably rejecting, a rather different reaction from the way Potter had stuttered and stumbled through their other meetings. No, that reaction was far more uncertain, far quieter than his usual Gryffindor getaways.</p><p>Tom noticed that for the fourth morning in a row, Harry Potter was not eating a single bite of breakfast.</p><p>Ah, Tom needed far more willpower than he currently possessed to get past this. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Harry didn’t really need to eat much in order to feel full, but there were really some days (weeks) when he felt like he didn’t need to eat at all. </p><p>But he could appease Hermione’s mother henning ways by promising to eat at least two times a day, and bless Ron for not making it a bigger deal than need be. In fact, they didn’t seem to mind much when he didn’t make a move to reach for one of the appetizing treacle tarts or deliciously runny eggs. </p><p>He kinda felt like he would throw up if they forced him to eat them, actually, and Harry personally thought that would be a damn right horrible disservice to the house elves. </p><p>His two best friends were acting normally at the table while he leisurely crammed for the test that day. Which basically means that they were bickering yet again and were about an inch away from throttling each other, while Harry leisurely crammed for the test that day. Ah, it was like Harry was born for work under pressure. He calmly flipped the page as insults were tossed back and forth in the background, delighted to know that he only had thirty pages left instead of sixty. His test would begin in forty-five minutes, after all. </p><p>Was this not the perfect, clear morning, the best kind of condition for a row between the married couple that was his pair of best friends? Could he do a minute each page? Of course, yes. Easier done than said. And with fifteen minutes to spare.</p><p>“No, you listen here, Ronald—”</p><p>“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it!”</p><p>“It’s because you didn’t even try! For someone who’s in Gryffindor, you’re not very determined!”</p><p>“I <em> am </em> determined, and I was <em> very determined </em> to not give a shit about what Snape had to say about it!”</p><p>Harry turned the page, idly sipping on a fresh steaming mug of hot chocolate. </p><p><em> The Vanishing Spell, on the other hand, is a far more complex spell that requires the caster’s utmost concentration, </em> Harry read, taking a bite out of his chocolate chip pancake. The chocolate candies on top melted in his mouth, and combined with the sweet and fluffy taste of the pancake, it felt like the closest to heaven that Harry could get. <em> Researchers claim that it sends the target into a state of non-being, but many have argued that it may be more accurate to say that it sends the target into a ubiquitous state. The state of being everywhere, yet nowhere at the same time. Omnipotence, if you will.  </em></p><p>Harry took another bite, the viscous maple syrup slowly dribbling from his bottom lip. He licked the butter off of his previously dry lips.</p><p>Huh. His lips were now wet.</p><p>... wait a fucking second. </p><p>Harry froze, the Vanishing Spell vanishing from his mind. Actually, all kinds of thoughts vanished from his mind, and Harry was suddenly <em>this close </em>to screaming and making angry, confused noises and uninterpretable gestures at Ron and Hermione.</p><p>Since when did the house elves serve mini chocolate chip pancakes topped with candy, and large marshmallows melting inside a cup of hot chocolate? </p><p>Harry checked left, then looked right. Nope, no one else was having it. The closest dish to his light, sugary meal was the plateful of scrambled eggs in front of Ginny. And when did he get a plate anyway? He could’ve sworn he cleared off a little space for his elbows and book. </p><p>Harry didn’t feel like emptying his stomach, though, and if there was one thing that was stronger than his periodic lack of appetite, it was his permanent sweet tooth. Harry shrugged, eyes going back to his Transfiguration book. He wasn’t done studying, after all, and there was no cause for suspicion. He might’ve somehow managed to stir some house elf’s concern, or he might’ve fixed up a plate while he was lost in the dreadful warzone known as Transfiguration class. </p><p>The pancakes didn’t upset his stomach or anything, and when Harry was done skimming over the book, he realized he had managed to eat a full, honest to Merlin meal for the first time in five days. </p><p>It happened again during dinner a few days after. </p><p>Harry had been listening to Katie Bell’s new idea to change up the usual Chaser formation, but as soon as he bid the blonde goodbye and turned to face the table, he was suddenly met with a bowl of steaming hot noodle soup. Noodles. <em> Noodles </em>of all things. </p><p>To his knowledge, Hogwarts never once served noodles. He would’ve known if the school did. Why, you ask? Well, back in the Muggle world, cup noodles and instant ramen were like Harry’s best friend. It was the easiest thing to make and it filled him up with warmth, the concerning amount of MSG flooding his tongue with its cheap yet irresistible flavor. Eleven-year-old Harry was curious as fuck as to what the real deal tasted like, but he’d never been to a restaurant, and the Dursleys never bought anything like it since Dudley disliked Asian food. Well, besides the instant shit, but it was only for Harry since it was a "cheap, unhealthy thing" according to Aunt Petunia, just like him, he supposed. But never mind that.</p><p>Here in front of Harry, was the most authentic bowl of noodles that Harry had ever seen in his life. Well, the only one, really, if his cup noodles didn’t count. </p><p>He peered suspiciously at Ron and Hermione, but they were paying him no mind. Which was really, <em> really </em>weird, because Hermione would’ve spotted the anomaly right away unless it was her idea. </p><p>“Hermione, do you have something to do with this?” he asked her suspiciously. Hermione looked back at him, confused. </p><p>“What do you mean, Harry? Your pork chops look fine.” </p><p>“Not gonna eat those, mate?”</p><p>“Ronald!” Hermione swatted Ron’s arm, ignoring his hiss. “It’s Harry’s first time eating properly for a week, could you <em> please </em>just get your own?”</p><p>“I don’t really see the problem, the serving of pork chops is right in front of him, not right in front of me!”</p><p>“Oh, you insensitive prat!”</p><p><em> What the fuck?  </em>Harry looked down, staring blankly at the noodle soup. Its aroma was very enticing, and instead of aggravating his stomach, seemed to soothe and warm it. <em> But Ron and Hermione think it looks like pork chops, are you not the least bit suspicious, Potter? You in the habit of getting yourself fucked? </em>A voice in Harry’s head whispered, disturbingly sounding like Malfoy. </p><p>Harry experimentally leaned right, elbowing Ron in the process and ignoring his affronted “Hey!”. The image of the noodle soup melted away to reveal a plate of pork chops that matched the plate of Dean Thomas, who was seated on his left. He blinked, then blinked again when he leaned back to the left and was rewarded by a very corporeal bowl of noodles.</p><p>Well. Well, well. Well, well, <em>well. </em>Harry had quite the problem. Maybe someone was trying to poison him? </p><p>But… noodles. His inner Malfoy snark died down as well at the prospect of eating something <em>this </em>rare of a blessing.</p><p>From the other end of the hall, Tom pursed his lips as Harry began to dig in, albeit a little hesitantly at first. He was unsure if he should count that as a victory or not. On one hand, the idiot was finally eating properly, which was no surprise because Tom had thought very long and hard on what Harry could both stomach and enjoy. On the other hand, he was a little irked that Harry didn’t even check if the food was tampered with. Did he think that a suspicious glance would suddenly uproot all sorts of maliciousness without him even casting a single detection charm?</p><p>He bit back a frustrated exhale, and began to eat his own matching bowl of disillusioned noodle soup. Keeping his distance was quite a large strain on his mental and physical faculties.</p><p>The next couple of days, mysterious meals continued to appear on the table when Harry wasn’t looking, and no one else would notice. Even stranger, all the prepared dishes were light enough for Harry to eat, all without strong smells that might aggravate his nose and a mouthwatering mix of sugary and healthy. In the span of four days, he had practically gone around the world, trying out the tiny, American breakfast called “eggs benedict”, according to Hermione when he asked specifically, some rice balls that Harry guessed was a Japanese thing, some soup that Harry bet his Firebolt had a name he couldn’t pronounce but was most probably from Europe, and even fish fillet. </p><p>But what was even <em>more </em>disturbing was the fact that Tom hadn’t approached him once ever since he offered him that chicken sandwich.</p><p>He wanted to slap himself. It wasn’t that Harry wanted to say no, his stomach was just more out of sorts than it usually was on that day, and it had some sort of heavy filling or sauce that he wasn’t sure his nose or mouth could take. And to be quite frank, Harry had no damn right to miss the Slytherin’s company, because <em>he </em>was the one who had been running off whenever he saw so much as a single hair on Riddle’s head. </p><p>But no, this meant that perhaps Riddle was losing interest in him. And that was a good thing. Supposed to be a good thing, because Harry and Tom were two different people with different needs and Riddle had no business being with someone so far from the ideal. The ideal for someone like Riddle, of course. Harry looked down at his hands when he saw the Prefect enter the classroom five minutes before the bell, fighting down the urge to look up. He <em>cannot </em>act like he’d want to be in Riddle’s company now, of all times. </p><p>Sure, Harry wasn’t particularly interested in being more than friends, but Tom’s friendship sounded like a really nice idea. </p><p>But Riddle had to <em>un </em>like-like him first, or else who knows what Harry might end up doing or saying. </p><p>People started to trickle in the classroom as the seconds passed, and some guy wearing a Slytherin tie approached him. “Harry? Is this seat taken?” </p><p>“No, go ahead.” </p><p>If Harry was being a bit honest with himself, Riddle was very attractive. But that wasn’t really anything important or special, Harry bet that even Snape couldn’t deny that the boy was physically flawless in that classical, fairytale sort of way. </p><p>“Have you eaten this morning?”</p><p>“Yeah,” replied Harry. “I had a really good breakfast. Have you eaten?”</p><p>“Yes, I have. Thank you for asking.”</p><p>But what Harry missed the most was Tom himself, the way he spoke, the way he noticed everything, the way he could solve most questions in under a second and the way he was so focused on getting what he wanted. He especially liked how Tom knew what he lacked and begrudgingly tried to work on it, knowing for a fact that Riddle wasn’t exactly a naturally kind person.</p><p>It wasn’t until mid-class that Harry realized it was Tom himself who sat beside him.</p><p><em> What the fuckity fuck?  </em>Harry jumped in his seat as his eyes strayed from his messy scrawl, landing on Tom who was writing dutifully in his piece of parchment with a straight back. <em> When the bloody hell did he get here, the fucking ghost!</em></p><p>“Harry, is something wrong?” Tom glanced at him, pausing in his writing. Professor Flitwick continued to joyously talk about the Disillusionment Charm, referencing chapter whatever of <em> The Standard Book of Spells, Level 5.  </em></p><p>“N-no, I just almost fell asleep,” Harry lied, slumping in his seat. </p><p>Fuck Riddle for making things so complicated. But sneaking a glance at the other boy who resumed taking down careful notes, Harry tilted his head. </p><p>Riddle partnering up with him, simply walking together to their next classes and packing up a chicken sandwich, weren’t those all just friendly gestures? Was Harry looking in between the lines for something that just didn’t exist?</p><p>He lightly thudded his head on the table, and Tom didn’t seem to even think it was out of character of him to do so. He continued writing, unbothered. </p><p>Right. Tom Riddle. It was practically a miracle that Tom was his friend, what were the odds of Tom actually liking him, right? He had been so worked up for nothing. He wanted to exhale a sigh of relief, but what came out was this choked, gurgling sound that had Tom raise an eyebrow at the blubbering, melting goo that was Harry.</p><p>Still, Harry smiled. Friendship wasn’t so out of reach, after all. And maybe Tom could help him find out who in their right mind was fucking with his brain, preparing him meals that his mind and gut couldn’t say no to, using charms that Harry was only learning about now, too. Whoever did it was probably older or some sort of Hermione Granger 2.0, considering that he had already tossed aside the idea that Hermione might've done it.</p><p>But right before he could ask Riddle to help in his investigation, the meals stopped coming, curiously a few meals after Harry’s appetite had returned. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Tom. Are you telling me that you’ve been disappearing in the middle of the night for the past few weeks, for some fucking itch for meal prep?”</p><p>Tom snorted. “Far from it, Zabini. I noticed that Harry wasn’t eating well and I was merely… concerned for him. It was not some ‘fucking itch’ as you so eloquently put it, I in fact researched very thoroughly on the different kinds of delicacies that would suit Harry’s condition and his tastes. And I merely asked the house elves for help each night instead of doing it myself.”</p><p>“That. Now, <em> that, </em>Tom, doesn’t make it any better. In fact, it makes it ten times worse.” Blaise pinched the bridge of his nose, collapsing on his bed in the dormitory. “I have a river’s worth of respect for you, Tom, I really do, but right now I’m not so sure whether I should applaud you or smack you upside the head.”</p><p>Tom narrowed his eyes. “I do not understand. Was it not you yourself who told me to keep my distance? I kept it, he has no idea that it was me. I believe he suspects the house elves or the Castle itself.”</p><p>“Oh, for the love of Merlin, just shut up, Riddle. You’re making it worse for yourself with every word.” Blaise deflected a jinx with his wand with a casual flick. “You’re good at playing a true Slytherin, but when it comes to innocent shit, you’re about as emotionally intelligent as a goat.”</p><p>“Pfft, you said it.” Draco muttered from where he was seated on his bed. His eyes were on Tom’s copy of <em>The Standard Book of Spells, </em>which he stole from Tom’s bag because he couldn’t be bothered to summon his own copy. “Although you gotta admit Zabini, they’ve been talking a lot more. I think Potter considers them friends.”</p><p>“Morgana, <em> of course </em>they’re friends! That’s not what I’m trying to say, my <em> point is </em>that Tom did something really, really big for Potter, and Potter has no fucking clue!”</p><p>“Why switch your tune now, Blaise? The friend tactic is obviously working,” Draco shot back. “I agree with Tom, keeping it under wraps and saving the confession for <em> another </em>time, preferably when Potter is already so deep in his growing infatuation with him, because it would basically secure that Gryffindor’s adoration for all eternity.”</p><p>Tom would never admit to not having thought of <em>that. </em> He chose to smirk smugly at Blaise instead, with a look that clearly said <em>yes, that was what I was thinking about the entire time and you cannot prove otherwise because it undoubtedly sounds like something I would be thinking. </em>His smirk disappeared as he realized that his current situation had many significant parallels to what Pansy, Daphne and Millicent giggled about and called "pillow talk".</p><p>Merlin, help him. </p><p>Blaise groaned. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Draco’s gasp.</p><p>“Tom, what the fuck?”</p><p>“What is it now, Draco?” he asked, a touch of irritation in his voice. He had wanted to hear what Zabini had to say. </p><p>“Potter left a note in your textbook!”</p><p>
  <em> “What?” </em>
</p><p>Tom snatched the ripped up piece of parchment in his hands, squinting to try and discern the scrawl. Goodness, it was like Harry’s handwriting got worse each time he held a quill. Draco and Blaise, in a hideously plebeian manner, scampered to claim a spot beside his right and left respectively, peering over his shoulder.</p><p>
  <em> Thank you for the meals, Tom, they were hecka delicious! I’m really glad we’re friends! If you ever want or need something, don’t hesitate to ask, alright? </em>
</p><p>Draco stared. “Huh. Well.”</p><p>Blaise snorted. “'If you ever want or need something', he says. Unless Potter would be willing to shack it up with dear Tom here—”</p><p>
  <em> “Silencio!”  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[if you skipped the beginning note, i added something there relevant to current events but please feel free not to read about it]</p><p>Harry and Tom literally going around in circles hfjjfjdjd where is the brain wave :&lt;</p><p>Tom engaging in pillow talk with Draco and Blaise? I think canon HAHAHAHA and yes, Harry figured out it was Tom because of Tom's casual "Have you eaten yet?" and the difficulty level of the Disillusionment Charm. </p><p>I have 3/4 of the next part written, and how would you all like a prequel included in the mix? I was thinking a Tom-centric prequel that would explain what could have possibly happened between the two of them that got Riddle so, erm, invested in Harry? It'll be set before the "Two Different Kinds of Falling". I even hinted in this particular installment that yeah, something /did/ happen, specifically before Third Year. But a prequel would like go into much farther depth. </p><p>Also! I based Harry's loss of appetite on my own experience, it's not in any way accurate or related to an eating disorder. c:</p><p>Anyway, I hope you all have a nice day, and I wish you guys liked the latest installment even if it was a bit on the rushed side! Please leave a comment if you like, and I hope you all stay safe! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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